


Better Late Than Never

by RIC (prussia)



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Fluff, M/M, Romance, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-15
Packaged: 2018-09-22 17:21:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,430
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9617702
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prussia/pseuds/RIC
Summary: Another holiday -- another year on this earth -- means yet another opportunity for Prussia to express his true feelings for that one man who frustrates him most. 'Dear Austria,' he should have written in a love note, but that would be too much.Instead, Prussia shows up, and expects his abundance of gifts to do the talking for him. Will his message finally get through?Austria isn't the easiest person to speak to, reason with, show fondness for, etc., and Prussia's patience is about as flimsy as the bathrobe Austria wears to greet him there, as a last-minute Valentine's Day 'celebration' unfolds.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> A little something for the holiday...
> 
> PruAus one-shot written February 2nd, 7th, 9th, and 10th, 2017. 
> 
> (I wrote it in four parts, and I've split it into two chapters for the sake of ease, but yeah...)
> 
> You know me; it's a little bit comedy, but also Prussia and his deep thoughts hidden beneath a smirk, and Austria being difficult, yet sweet in his own weird way. 
> 
> This one is probably rated G, but there's a few words of profanity. Nothing major. 
> 
> No warnings to speak of. 
> 
> I'm sorry this fic takes place in the same spot a large part of my last short fic (That's Not a Proper Greeting!) took place. Austria's house is always a safe setting, though, since Germany is not there to eavesdrop. 
> 
> If you read this story, I do hope you enjoy it!

A man stood on Austria’s front porch, knocking on the front door. How on earth he was able to free a hand from the armload of presents he came bearing in order to knock upon that door, one can only wonder. But Prussia did knock. His hand freed from the bouquet of flowers, the plush teddy bear, and the giant box of chocolates; the box shaped like a heart; shiny red cellophane wrapped around it, all tied up with a red-violet bow.

He shifted in place. There on the doormat. Peering straight ahead at a shut door. No light shining down upon him, for Austria had turned out that light long ago.

Dressed in an old green jacket, and his usual attire, Prussia tapped one foot on the wooden porch. Waiting, and impatient. God knows he had waited enough that night. Returning to the scene of a crime? Not quite, but he _had_ stood in that same place, that same exact spot, already in the prior hours of Valentine’s. A holiday all but ended. Maybe five minutes left? Five minutes ‘til midnight, and Austria had better get his ass down here soon, Prussia thought, otherwise, what’s the point?

Meanwhile, Austria heard the knock upon his door. Dragging himself from bed, but not from sleep, for sleep had never come. Cursing beneath his breath, as he grabbed a robe, and draped it across his body. Tying the sash, and slipping his feet into a pair of old house-shoes, “Who the hell...?!” he mumbled, never quite finishing the sentence nor the thought. His mind going directly to the most likely suspect.

“Prussia,” he noted, as he entered the hallway. Grabbing a hold the banister, “Must be Prussia,” he reiterated, as he made his way downstairs.

Approaching the front door just in time for Prussia to knock again.

“I’m coming!” Austria shouted. “Of all the silly reasons to get out of bed...”

Standing in the dim entrance-way -- a small space lit only by a piddly nightlight plugged into a low outlet -- Austria huffed, and unlocked the door, pulling it open. Switching on the porch-light. Finding there on his doormat the only person he had in mind while imagining who could be knocking at such an obscene time. “Prussia,” he said, “What...??” and his words were halted thanks to various items being shoved into his hands.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” Prussia shouted, though not in anger; a joyous tone, as if he had been waiting all night just to say it. Finally releasing a long-hidden secret, and you’re gushing, brimming over, grinning; can’t wait to impart the words onto the one person you want to hear them.

“Happy...??” Austria was at a loss; no message thus far seemed capable of ending in full. “I...” he began again. Staring down at the items Prussia had given to him. A bouquet of flowers, a teddy bear, chocolates in an ornate box. “But why?” Austria asked, and at least it was a full question, but God only knew, it was a dangerous one.

Prussia’s smile faded, and his eyes narrowed. “You’re kidding, right?”

A question answered with a question, and he laughed, but the joyous tone was long gone; he laughed as if shocked. Offended. “Last week,” he said, “when I was here for dinner?” And he left the rest blank a moment, hoping the memory would awaken Austria to the current situation; would make him realize just why Prussia was there, wishing him a Happy Valentine’s Day, and giving him goodies.

“You know...” Prussia prompted when the only response he garnered was Austria gazing at him wide-eyed, and shaking his head as if confused.

“I was here!” Prussia shouted, and all right, this time he was angry. “When I came to eat dinner? And you kissed me right here in this doorway!”

“I did no such thing!” Austria scoffed, finally jolted back to life; reanimated, thanks to Prussia’s recollections. “I didn’t kiss you, you kissed me!!” Austria added, likewise offended. Clutching the bouquet of flowers so tight, he nearly snapped the stems. The poor teddy bear, with his head in a vise grip otherwise known as Austria’s bony right elbow, stared up at Prussia with his little button eyes as if begging for help. _Save me from this man! Who on earth have you given me to?! He’s not soft and cuddly like you said on the drive down here while you were daydreaming aloud behind the steering wheel. Me in the backseat listening with my fuzzy little ears. I heard all of it, you former war maniac. I want to go back to Germany’s house, and live on a shelf with all the Steiffs!!_

At least the chocolates were unharmed, though the cellophane crinkled as Austria hugged the items closer to his chest, hiding his heart.

“I’m not the one who invited me here to eat,” Prussia hissed of their dinner engagement last week. Stepping closer so as to join Austria on the threshold. His boots nearly smooshing the toes of Austria’s house-shoes; that close the two stood. Prussia peering down his nose at Austria, and speaking with one finger pointed at Austria’s face like a schoolteacher giving a hard talking-to -- bestowing some smug ‘I’m smarter than you’ lesson -- to an unruly student who thinks they know everything; already has the right answers, and can’t be corrected, lest they sulk about it for ages. “And I’m not the one who sat there at the dinner table half the night, going on and on about how lonely I am, and you’re the one, Austria, who reached under the table and put your hand on my knee! HA!!” he laughed at the climax of his speech, “Now was I, huh?! Nope, no...not me!!”

Prussia lowered his finger, no longer feeling the need to accuse, though his hands shot to his hips, and he stood there like that, still defensive, but his words came out slower as if the whole thing had begun to exhaust him. “And you’re the one who walked me to the door, right here!” he shouted, motioning to the place where they were stuck in this odd relationship, along with their actual location: the entrance and the exit. “And you leaned in and shut your eyes, and what was I supposed to do with that?! Of course I kissed you...but you started it!”

“Don’t blame me for your lack of self-control,” Austria said as calm as you please. Finally taking a moment to cool off, and recompose himself. Even letting the teddy bear get a breath here and there. No longer squeezing as tight, and even the flowers sort of dangled, and the large box of chocolates seemed destined to slip to the floor. “I was merely allowing you to hug me good-bye. Maybe kiss my cheek, at most.”

“Well I’m sorry I missed and kissed you in the wrong spot, you damn snob. Maybe next time you should draw me a map, if that’s what you’re after.”

“I’m not after anything,” Austria replied. “And you sure didn’t have to bring me all these _things_ ,” he said the final word as if the gifts were worthless; nothing but hollow gestures; useless items.

“I...?!” Now Prussia was at a loss. “I made that bear myself!” he eventually spat. “And those chocolates?! They cost me a fortune!! We’re not all rich like you, _Aussstriaaa_ ,” he drew out the name for emphasis, and soon his finger was re-raised, this time poking the so-called rich man in the chest. What little of it was accessible past all the presents. Poking the robe, close to where a bit of skin showed, along with a silver cross, and surely none of it was distracting, but...

Prussia fell silent. Standing there, staring down at Austria’s chest, and the presents, and the skin, and the cross.

“I don’t have time for this,” Austria said, breathing out deep and annoyed. “Do you know how late it is? What in Heaven’s name would possess you to drive all the way down here in the middle of the night??”

“You,” said Prussia. Without even blinking; perhaps without thinking. No, the word shot past his lips before he could double-think it. “You possessed me. You’re like a movie I saw once, a horror film, but there’s one beautiful scene, and it haunts me ‘til I have to watch the movie again just to get it out of my head.”

“Start making sense,” Austria said, nearly whispering it. “I’m a movie now? A horror film?? Of all the silly things you could come up with, Prussia...”

And he turned away from the film-fan on his porch, and set the three gifts onto a nearby table. Some blank space for holding his gloves or keys or anything else he felt the need to keep close to the door for when leaving in a hurry. In sight, in mind, but the tabletop was empty that night, for his gloves and keys were still stashed in a coat pocket; a coat hanging in an equally-nearby closet.

“You never answered my question,” Austria said, as he positioned the teddy bear into a sitting position atop the box of candy. The flowers he touched again, tilting them a half an inch and smiling at the unusual bouquet. “I think most people give roses,” he said, unhinged from his previous statement. Finding it charming someone would give a mixture of flowers -- all different colors and types and sizes -- while most lovey-dovey-minded people play it safe with red roses. “I like them, though,” Austria admitted, only then having realized he liked them. “I hope they didn’t cost as much as the chocolates.” He grimaced a bit, letting Prussia’s words finally soak in. “You really shouldn’t have,” he said, in reference to Prussia spending so much. “I hope you were exaggerating.”

“When do I ever exaggerate?!” Prussia knew damn well he did, and he did it often, but that was the least of his worries at the moment. “I brought you that shit because I wanted you to be home tonight, but you weren’t, and now you are, and I wish I hadn’t bothered!!”

He stormed away from Austria, across the porch, and down the front steps. Halfway through the yard, and he didn’t pause, not even for a second; not even when Austria called out to him. Hollering his name...

“Prussia, wait!” Austria cried. He stood in the doorway watching, repeating the request at least twice, all while shivering, and holding his robe shut as tight as it would go. “Come back here, and finish your story,” he didn’t quite demand; it was more in line with Austria’s typical whining or whimpering, but it came out a bit harsh due to how loud he screamed it. “I’ll meet you halfway,” he added, making a slow trek across the porch. “Here on the steps, okay?” He was desperate for any word of agreement; any acknowledgement from the man en route to his parked car. “How does that sound?” Austria asked, making his way down the front steps, and he reached the bottom one and stood there, waiting, but not so impatient. Forcing himself to smile a bit, thinking any second now, Prussia would turn around, and face him. Forgive him. Whatever it took.

Prussia’s legs felt weighted down. As if some unseen hands were grabbing his ankles, and meanwhile, whoever operated those hands, they were rising up just far enough from the ground, with an unseen mouth, to whisper in his ear: ‘Better stop. Better wait. Better not blow this...it might be your only chance.’ A helpful ghost granted foresight to the future? Surely it was Prussia’s conscience. Some sense of guilt for leaving so irate.

Either way, he stopped and stood in place. Glaring down at the ground. “And what if I don’t want to wait? What if I think meeting halfway means you getting your ass down here, and meeting me in the yard??”

Austria couldn’t say no to that brand of logic. Sure enough, the halfway point between the front porch and the parked car was the spot of yard where Prussia stood. “I suppose that sounds fair,” Austria remarked, taking one baby-step to reach the soft ground. Making one tiny move, slow and thought-out, like sliding a chess piece across a board, inviting your opponent to make their next move, and in that quiet space, you’ll figure out the best way to counterattack. After all, that was their own brand of logic; one man moves, the other moves, and before you know it, there’s a winner and a loser. Careful hands, and busy minds -- confused hearts aside -- it all boiled down to strategy. Patience. A plan.

Of course, it’s impossible to know where to let your pieces rest until you have some inkling of an idea what your so-called opponent, your playing partner -- one in the same for Prussia and Austria -- has going on in their own head. All these gifts he brought...a peace offering? Austria wondered. Unable to take the gesture simply for what it is: an armload of love-tokens on a holiday. Prussia thinking a kiss meant they had somehow upgraded their relationship to warrant Valentine’s Day presents?

Austria's mind pondered this as he took his precious time pacing towards the halfway point and the man who lingered there.

“If you were any slower,” Prussia said, “I’d ask for a train schedule...when’s the Austria Limited expected to reach the station? Oh, by Christmas?? Well that’s a relief! I didn’t have anything else going on until then,” Prussia teased. A slight grin as he carried on with his nonsense. His hand near his mouth as if holding a microphone; speaking to invisible train passengers: “Attention everyone, the Austria Limited is experiencing technical difficulties this evening...he doesn’t know how to take a teddy bear to bed with him without turning his nose up at it first.”

Austria smiled, although it was an awkward little upturn of his lips. “I said I liked it,” he spoke of the bear. “Didn’t I?” he doubted himself. Standing in front of Prussia now, for his long walk to that exact spot had finally come to an end.

“You most certainly did not,” Prussia complained. “You said you liked the flowers,” he listed on his hands, “and you said you hoped the chocolates weren’t THAT expensive.” Having counted to two fingers, he raised them up to prove Austria’s error. His forgetfulness. His uncaring, ungrateful demeanor.

“Well, I do like it,” Austria said, and at least his smile now verged on sincere.

“A teddy bear is not an it, he’s a him,” Prussia corrected. “Mr. Fuzzy Ears Buttonheimer.”

Austria shut his eyes a moment, and forced back an embarrassed-for-the-other-man laugh. “There’s no way I’m calling him that.”

“You will!” joked Prussia. “He’ll get upset if you don’t...”

Once shrugging his shoulders, as if to let the whole pretend argument go, Prussia’s left hand found the right sleeve of Austria’s robe. Sort of petting or pawing at the soft material. “Kinda thin for February,” he noted.

“I’m always thin...aren’t I?” Austria fretted a bit about his weight, due to his habit of eating too much cake, especially in Winter months, but of course he had misinterpreted what Prussia had meant.

“Not you. The robe,” Prussia clarified. “You’re gonna catch a cold if you stay out here too long. You should take better care of yourself, Austria! You should worry about your health,” he didn’t quite scold nor preach. He and his brother both were simply concerned -- perhaps overly-concerned -- with the health and well-being of the nations around them, especially the nations they considered friends and/or family. Austria fell into both categories in Germany’s mind, but only one in Prussia’s, and even then, sometimes neither label sufficed.

With his hand now gripped tight around Austria’s arm, an inch or two above that bony elbow, Prussia mused, “Sometimes I don’t think you know half of what I mean until I’m through talking to you...I bet you pore over it after I’m gone.”

“That might be true,” Austria conceded. “I do sometimes lie awake at night, just wondering...”

“Just wondering what?” Prussia asked. A damn smirk grew on his face, and for once, it didn’t infuriate the man before him.

“Just wondering,” Austria said. Full stop. No need to elaborate...or so he felt.

“Hmm,” said Prussia, letting the thought sink in. “I just wonder sometimes too, then,” he admitted in the same secretive tone.

“Well...if you tell me what you wonder, then I’ll tell you what I wonder,” Austria bartered, and now he bore his own little hint of a smirk. The chess pieces falling into place; the moves getting quicker as their minds caught glimpse of the bigger picture; their hearts knowing maybe both could be winners, for really, what’s the fun of winning games and fights when it equals quiet nights alone?

Surely there didn’t have to be a loser.

“I have a better idea,” said Prussia, his voice dialed back to a rarely-used degree of gentle understanding. “I’m gonna tell you a story...” he trailed off in speech, but not in actions. Letting his right hand find the left sleeve of Austria’s robe, perhaps part of him fearing this man whom he kissed last week would bolt for the house any second now; make a beeline for the entrance/exit of his home, and lock the door and bask in the safety of being far away from his old enemy. Not wanting to let Austria wriggle free from hearing what Prussia had promised himself he wouldn’t tell, because telling would lead to Austria winning.  _‘Never give him any ammunition’_ was Prussia’s standard motto when it came to these sort of after-dark meetings. _‘Never let him know what you’re really thinking. What you’re feeling.’_ And most of all, _‘What you’re afraid of.’_

“I was already here tonight,” Prussia said. “Twice, actually.”

Austria nodded yes to signify he was listening now that Prussia was finally speaking again; finally ready to begin this story, and he nodded so thoughtfully, Prussia squeezed at both arms and let his hands linger before sliding them down to reach Austria’s wrists. Leading those cold empty hands, skin like porcelain, over to find the belt-loops of Prussia’s jeans. Taking some strange amount of comfort in knowing Austria’s grasp was forced to rest there, maybe, but at least he didn’t pull his hands away indignant. At least he laced his long fingers into those belt-loops on either side of Prussia’s hips, and even let his hands eventually graze their way to Prussia’s waist -- all on their own, no forcing, no leading, no having to ask for, nor explain the reasons for wanting it to be this way -- and from there, Austria’s hands circled round to find the small of Prussia’s strong back. Some amount of comfort in simply touching one another. And at the end of the day -- a holiday -- it was extra nice, and on second thought, there was nothing strange about it. For how can newfound comfort ever be strange?

“I came by twice, and you weren’t home...I stood there on that porch, just knocking and knocking,” Prussia lamented, “and I thought I heard footsteps,” his eyes went wide, “someone walking through your house, the floors creaking, but you never came to the door.”

“I wasn’t here,” Austria pointed out the obvious, but said it with an ounce of sympathy, and a dash of warm reassurance.

“I figured that out,” Prussia said, “but in the meantime, I sat on your front steps, and I had a little chat with myself. Then I pretended someone was inside your house, and they were listening to me out here.”

“What did you tell them?” Austria asked, smiling, for he was curious to know what Prussia says while speaking to darkness and thin air; when he’s speaking without a proper audience. When no one is expecting him to be the big strong former-country who doesn’t feel a thing except for what his cocky smirk conveys.

When he’s not performing...when there’s no one there to hear...his heart exposed, and _somewhere out there roamed a guy in comparable solitude..._

While Prussia was sitting on cold wooden steps, Austria had been elsewhere, in a heated room, surrounded by a thousand other souls. He, in truth, though, was no less lonely. He too felt surrounded by ghosts.

“I told them,” Prussia began, somewhat nuzzling his nose closer to Austria’s while he spoke soft and slow; a sheepish grin emerging as he admitted what he had said to the idea of a fellow man behind a locked door, “that Austria is never here when I want him...never here when it matters. Probably out with Hungary,” Prussia had seethed hours prior. “I don’t know why a divorce can’t be a nail in a coffin, but apparently it can’t...” A long overdue and much-needed coffin, Prussia considered it, but he left out the adjectives. Why dress it up? Why give Austria even more ammunition?? “I guess Valentine’s Day isn’t for people who have nice talks, and suppers together, with knee-touching, and kisses good-bye,” Prussia sighed as he finished relaying what was said hours beforehand. “And then I stood up and marched to my car, and drove into town. Went to a bar,” he seemed to deride himself, or his choices that night. “It was awful, Austria,” he almost laughed. “I drank seven beers, and they barely even gave me a buzz.”

“You’ve been in a bar?” Austria asked, lifting one hand away from Prussia’s back to smooth hair from Prussia’s forehead; wanting a better view of Prussia’s eyes. ‘How sad is he right now?’ Austria wondered. ‘Is he just sulking because I wasn’t home when he wanted me here? Or is this something more??’ Brushing away silver wisps of hair, and studying the sight of the other man. “No wonder you’re acting this way...you’ve been drinking,” Austria decided of the whole affair.

Prussia took the chance -- Austria’s hand within reach, still near his forehead -- to grab Austria’s wrist again, and he pulled Austria’s fingers to his lips, and kissed the top of them like they did in the old day while bidding hello or farewell or thank you to dignified women, ladies, those they danced with, etc.

Once kissing his hand, Prussia refused to let go of it. Hanging onto it, and drawing it close to his chest, near to his heart. “I was mad before I went to the bar. I calmed down and sobered up. You were gone long enough,” Prussia explained. “I even sat out here a while before I knocked the third time just to cheer up, and talk myself back into it,” he flashed one of his classic grins, but it proved to be short-lived. “I had figured you must be home from your date by then. Surely Hungary doesn’t let you stay out too late...”

“I wasn’t with Hungary,” Austria said. “I went to a concert...alone.” That final word felt heavy in his mouth. Oh the shame of going out alone on Valentine’s Day! But then again, once that word left his lips, a weight felt lifted from his heart. To know the confession might put Prussia at ease. Maybe even bring him joy. Who knew with him, but regardless, it felt good to clear up the presumed notion held by Prussia, that since it was a day for lovers, Austria was automatically out with his ex-wife? Of course not. He was out spending the evening with the true love of his life. Music. An orchestra. A symphony. Those violin strings. Those piano keys. All of it singing to remind him life is worth living, beautiful, divine.

And so Austria smiled, recalling the way his heart was lifted and his mind set ablaze in the loveliest possible way; how he had felt during that concert, but...

“Why in the hell did you go alone?!” Prussia shouted; his voice shrill.

The profanity snapping Austria from his euphoric daze, thus his smile faded, and a cringe replaced it. “What was I supposed to do?” he asked, growing defensive. “I wanted to go, and I didn’t think having a date, nor telling anyone my plans was a prerequisite,” he huffed. “Was I supposed to ask for your permission?!”

“You were supposed to ask me to go with you,” Prussia matched Austria’s angered tone. “I wasn’t doing a damn thing but driving down here like a dumbass, presents on my lap,” he lied, for the presents had ridden in the backseat, but it made it sound like more of a chore if he had, in fact, been forced to drive with all that stuff squeezed in between him and the steering wheel. Carrying on with the diatribe, “I was freezing my ass off on your porch, and sitting on a bar-stool surrounded by lowlifes, dateless as me, thinking that kiss last weekend meant absolutely nothing, and how stupid it was to assume you’d ever stop being such a snob to me,” and all the while, Prussia pressed Austria’s hand harder against his chest. The latter man feeling a heartbeat grow rapider by the second. “I can’t do anything at the right time because you’re off being you, all weird and dateless, too, thinking it’s perfectly normal to spend Valentine’s Day on a date with yourself and music!”

“Well, what’s wrong with that,” Austria said, because he didn’t quite ask; he knew what Prussia was getting at. He just didn’t want to admit it. “Perhaps I like going out alone...”

“Do you??” Prussia asked as honest as anything. A hypocrite, because wasn’t Prussia always hailing his alone time as the most awesome thing in the whole wide world? And he was so happy being alone, so why couldn’t Austria be, too?? “I don’t believe you...we could have had a nice fancy date, you and me.”

Finally his tone had delved back into something softer and more naive. Yet his eyes narrowed, as if troubled. “The next time,” Prussia drew out the words carefully, “you ask me to go with you. Let’s be like normal people.”

“But we’re not normal people...” Austria trailed off, wondering if he should have included Prussia in that assessment. Austria wasn’t a normal person, but God only knew what Prussia truly was anymore. “If it hurt your feelings, though, I will think to invite you along next time,” he offered, reverting back to the safer subject.

“I could have dressed up, and been your super handsome date, Austria.” Prussia just couldn’t let it go. “Wouldn’t you have been proud? Maybe?? I clean up pretty good, you know.” He grinned at this, and soon he was boasting: “Of course I do! Why wouldn’t I?” he laughed. “Sexy guy like me, and you’re off sitting alone, probably humming like a nerdy chump, all googly-eyed over Mozart or some shit.”

“Are you quite finished?” Austria asked. His face void of emotions. Stiff-lipped, and chin raised. “I enjoyed myself this evening. I’m sorry if you didn’t.”

Prussia cocked his head in confusion. “Didn’t enjoy you, or didn’t enjoy myself? Because I always enjoy myself, Austria. And I’m even enjoying you right now, if you can believe it,” he winked. “Don’t think I can’t feel you petting at me back there,” he said of Austria’s free hand; the way his thumb was rubbing up and down at the fabric of Prussia’s shirt. Fingers having found their way beneath the old green jacket, perhaps for Austria to keep his hand warm on that cold night. “You oughta slide your other hand back there with it. I bet they miss each other.”

“My hands?” Austria asked, and laughed a slight laugh. “You never know when to stop being silly...”

“I bet now is a pretty good time,” Prussia said, and as soon as he felt Austria’s captured hand unfurl its fingers to press a flat palm against Prussia’s heart, forgoing the advice to put that hand elsewhere, hide it beneath a jacket, choosing instead to let it stay where it can feel the proof of one man’s life, Prussia leaned in and smiled before kissing Austria. Before pressing his lips against Austria’s lips, and he couldn’t help but keep smiling until Austria finally shut his eyes. Then, and only then, did Prussia do likewise.


	2. Chapter 2

Wiping the smile from his face by way of concentration. In a secret little fight with himself to make this kiss a million times better than last week’s kiss: otherwise known as their first kiss. And it had all been rather chaste and sweet. Just a quick peck at the door. Not making the most of it then, in the sense of pressing against each other, nor opening their mouths, using their tongues, as they were both definitely doing by now.

\-- Making the most of this second kiss. Getting completely lost in it.

The softness of Austria’s lips: something Prussia wished he could bottle and take home with him. Uncap it the next time he was feeling lonely. Drink it in, or breathe it in, or however softness in a bottle functions. Is it liquid, or air? Maybe it remains a solid...something Prussia could pour out onto his bed and rest his head upon like a pillow. Hug it to his chest, as he now did with Austria’s whole body.

The warmth of his touch too should be contained to safe-keep it when Prussia needs it most. And perhaps his scent could be placed onto a scratch-and-sniff card Prussia could stash in his underwear drawer. To be able to smell this man whenever he deemed best. Like a cologne sample torn from a catalogue, a magazine, and Prussia could use it to permeate his clean boxer shorts, neatly folded in that drawer, by way of contagious scent. Wanting always to somehow preserve the details of this kiss. How Austria feels, smells, tastes, and sounds...all the attributes affecting Prussia’s senses; the fifth sense left blank, due to Prussia with his eyes shut.

He half-hoped someone was watching from the bushes, taking pictures -- a spy, perhaps, or a ghost; a nosy yellow bird capable of holding a camera; even France, known to lurk around Austria’s windows, would suffice -- and they could send the photographic evidence to Prussia later, so he could see for himself just how wonderful and in love Austria looks while melted in Prussia’s arms. 

A low pleasant hum escaped the kiss before Prussia broke it. Leaning only his face away far enough to speak. “I think we should start celebrating Valentine’s Day on the fifteenth,” Prussia mused. “You can spend the real day with yourself, and the day after with me.”

“I’ll try to remember that for next year,” Austria promised. “Of course, it’s already the fifteenth now,” he said of the date, “so you could come in the house, if you’d like.” He took a deep breath, then smiled. “Maybe even come upstairs...” He left the details of the offer blank, because there was no question as to what the spoken segment implied, especially since it was delivered with such a flirtatious gaze.

“Fast worker,” was all Prussia seemed capable of muttering. He laughed a bit, though, to cap the odd phrase. “I’ll keep it in mind for next time,” he finally smiled, and nodded yes, not to agree to any post-Valentine’s Day action on that given night or any holiday, but just acknowledging the prospect of ‘yes, maybe someday...maybe someday soon...maybe the next time this offer is made. After a third kiss, perhaps, or even a third date.’ They’d need to go on the first two dates, and have a few more late-night conversations, close-in-proximity -- as far as the seating arrangement is concerned -- suppers at home, and maybe a trip to a bar, a club, a restaurant, who knows what, or where the two men could go, but...this was too easy for Prussia; too much, too soon. “I think I better go home.”

Getting more than he bargained for, because what we he do once they were upstairs? Where would they go from there?? The man just wanted to give Austria a teddy bear and some chocolates and flowers, and maybe kiss him again, which now, he could mark all those points from his to-do list. Mission accomplished. Why risk biting off more than he could chew? Postpone the reaping of any further benefits until a perfect night presented itself; one not partially ruined by Austria’s extended absence and the stale scent of beer.

“I’m outta here,” Prussia rephrased in a more casual tone. Feeling the need to sound cooler than some guy too terrified to go to bed with an old enemy-turned-friend right off the bat. First chance he gets. “You kiss me good-bye this time, so I don’t get blamed for it later,” he teased.

“You sure?” Austria asked, disappointed, because God knows this night was cold, and oh boy, was his previous time in bed lonely. Why not make the most of a holiday meant for lovers and sweethearts and all those lovely things??

“I’m sure,” Prussia said. “You go grab Mr. Fuzzy Ears, and you two cuddle, all right? Eat those fancy chocolates, and then...I don’t know,” Prussia shrugged, his cheeks a bit red, a rare upset look in his eyes, “maybe call me in a couple hours, and see if I made it home safe. That’d be a nice and normal thing to do...right?” He wasn’t quite sure how these romantic relationships worked, but God damn it, he wanted to find out before his time on earth is through.

Gazing ahead at the man in his yard, Austria smiled and felt charmed by the sweetness Prussia occasionally conjured up from all that gruff exterior; that armor he often donned. “I’ll stay awake to call you.”

Prussia laughed, “You’ll probably fall asleep...liar.”

“I’m not fighting with you anymore,” Austria uttered what he hoped were the truest words of the evening.

“All right, truce,” Prussia said, raising his hands as if to surrender. A preemptive gesture in case they were, indeed, verging on yet another disagreement.

He motioned towards his car. “I’m leaving.”

“I noticed.”

Prussia took one measly step in the vehicle’s direction. “Now or never, Austria,” he said in reference to wanting an official kiss good-bye.

“Well, I won’t try and stop you,” Austria misunderstood. “I’ll call you soon.”

“Uh-huh,” Prussia said, following it up with a _‘tsk’_ as he turned his head. Too bad he did, for he failed to see Austria sauntering towards the house; choosing that moment to take his leave, and the yard grew dimmer as the moon went behind the clouds. The stars blocked out. A quiet night reassigned to that eerie level of silence when the slightest amount of breathing comes out like amplified wheezing. Or maybe Prussia was holding his breath. Waiting for a good-bye kiss he feared he wouldn't get. Hearing sounds in the trees on the outskirts of the yard. Maybe it was the wind, a harsh breeze, limbs shaking and creaking, and the whole thing seemed a bit more akin to Halloween than Valentine’s. Then again, it was now the fifteenth...now or never. Prussia’s own words returned to his mind. Echoing there like the haunting sounds on the tree-line.

“Austria, wait!” he screamed at the exact moment he looked over his shoulder and saw his unofficial date had already made it to the front porch. Quick when it’s convenient for him, thought Prussia in regards to Austria’s usual slow speed being replaced by this speedy escape. “Get back here and kiss me!”

“Prussia...” Austria sighed while lingering near his front door. “I’m going upstairs, and you’re going home.” He crossed his arms, not in defiance, but due to his sudden case of the shivers. His teeth chattering as he spoke, “Isn’t that right?”

Isn’t that what Prussia wanted?? Austria had already come to terms with Prussia’s insistence on leaving, and he also felt a sudden need to climb into bed and wrap up in blankets and yes, maybe even snack on some chocolate with Mr. Fuzzy Ears Buttonheimer at his side, while staring at a vase full of colorful flowers, a phone near his hand, waiting to place a call only God knows when -- some obscene time of night. It all seemed now like a pretty good prospect; a good-enough turn of events. For Austria to spend the next few hours awake and alone. As long as he didn’t have to be outdoors anymore, he was fine with waiting until Prussia wasn’t so love-shy.

“Oh,” said Prussia, his voice feeble at best. “Yeah, that’s right, I guess,” he looked at his shoes a moment before glancing back up to Austria. “You go on inside. Don’t catch a cold! I’ll be fine,” he forced a laugh. “Of course I will! I love driving late a night,” he lied. “It’s so fun...driving alone after dark. I’ll just, uh...listen to the radio. Sing along. It’ll be my own private concert, and you’re not invited!” he screamed like a spoiled child, but surely he was joking. Surely it was a feigned tone born from Austria’s indifference; the way the dark-haired nation stood there with a ‘whatever you say, Prussia’ look upon his face, there on the porch, hand two inches from turning the knob to let himself back into the warmth and elegance of his stately home. No matter how untidy at times, it was an impressive place over all, and Prussia couldn’t help but imagine simply stuffing the keys to his car back into his jacket pocket, and instead running up the small flight of steps to join Austria on the porch, and then up the long flight of stairs to join Austria in bed. Of course, this thought made him stammer, “You, uh...think about me tonight, okay?” He couldn’t help but grin. “And I’ll think about you in my own bed, once I’m home.”

Austria nodded and smiled. “I usually do,” he admitted.

“I, uh...” Prussia was at a short loss. “I...” he couldn’t do it, could he? Admit his own truth?? Give Austria all the ammunition?! Well, if this is what normal couples do...

“Me too,” Prussia confessed, and then laughed at himself. “All the time,” he said like a love-stricken teen. His heart felt frozen, though, to hear himself speak so unabashedly. Not to say he wasn’t embarrassed -- he was! Most definitely. If Austria had come down from the porch and felt Prussia’s forehead, he’d be convinced Prussia was running fever. Or maybe he already wondered as such, though he’d probably just settle back in on his prior conclusion of Prussia being drunk -- but the way Prussia had said it sure didn’t reveal any embarrassment. Maybe that laugh was enough of a giveaway, though, to the ears of Austria, for if any one man knew Prussia laughed more often and louder while nervous, it was the man lingering on the porch. The man now turning the knob. The man waving good-bye instead of kissing to impart the same message.

“Be careful,” Austria advised. Opening the door to his home, and edging his way inside. “I’m glad you came over tonight.”

“Mmm-hmm,” said Prussia, and he waved good-bye, too, and took a few more steps towards his car.

Finally reaching it, he called out, “Happy Valentine’s Day!”

Austria had already begun to close the door to his house, but pushed it ajar, and stuck his head out far enough to see Prussia had opened the vehicle’s door -- the interior lights on, and at least they made it possible for Austria to see the big smile on Prussia’s face -- and he returned the sweet farewell to the man he assumed must now be his boyfriend. Calling out in the same sweet tone, “Happy Valentine’s Day to you, too, Prussia,” and suddenly feeling guilty, he added, “I’m sorry I didn’t give you a gift. Thank you for mine.”

“It was nothing,” Prussia smiled. “You deserved something nice.”

“So do you,” Austria decided. “That’s why I tried...” he realized of his offering an invitation for Prussia to join him upstairs. “But it’s fine. Maybe next year?”

“I’ll be here,” said Prussia, hoping he was right. “And the next year, and the next,” he spoke as if trying to convince himself. Perhaps if he kept repeating it, it would have to come true! Fearing the opposite, however, “Or maybe I’ll just come back tomorrow night, and we can eat supper...chocolates for dessert if you don’t polish them off tonight,” he joked, or hell, knowing Austria, maybe he wasn’t kidding! Ah, but Prussia grinned, his head tilted to one side as he stood near his car, body halfway instead thanks to his right foot planted in the floorboard of the driver’s side. Hanging on to the opened car door, and sort of rocking it back and forth, his body going along for the gentle ride. “Sound good?” he asked, hoping for something to look forward to. Something more concrete, more tangible, more touchable than a phone-call later that night.

“I’ll be here,” Austria gave Prussia his own words back to him as if they were as comforting as hearing another set of three words. ‘I love you’ something neither man would confess for quite a long time; both men a bit love-shy when it came right down to it, but...those three words, ‘I’ll be here,’ was more than enough.

“I’m glad,” said Prussia, and he was half-tempted to refer to Austria with some playful nickname, like, ‘I’m glad, Fussy Pants,’ or ‘Snobby Britches,’ or whatever nickname was readily available in his current repertoire, but he forwent all the options, for regardless of what Austria believed, Prussia WAS capable of knowing when to stop being silly. When to start making the most of limited time.

And so he climbed into his car, and shut the door behind him. He waved again, but rolled down the window, just to see Austria clearer as he made his way inside the house.

“Good night,” Prussia said to the idea of Austria still standing on the porch. To the idea of going inside the house, following close behind him. Making sure Austria grabbed his gifts before going upstairs. “I hope you enjoy them,” Prussia said to thin air. “I’m sorry I got mad...” he apologized beneath his breath as he turned the key, thus starting the engine. “Always next time,” he promised himself, and at this, he smiled at his own reflection in the rear-view mirror. Promptly shifting the car into reverse, to leave Austria’s yard behind. The sight of the house growing small in the distance as he neared the main road. Inching down the driveway as if deep-down, he didn’t want to leave at all. “Always next time,” he repeated, and that was all the music he needed. The long trip home silent as Prussia daydreamed of his next big chance, his next grand adventure in making his old enemy see him as someone different. Someone worth spending time with, and kissing good-bye, good-morning, and every kiss in between. Happy to revel in all the slow and sweet and simple stuff now, and they could work their way up to ‘more’ when it felt right; not wanting to go through with anything merely for the sake of celebrating holidays which were already over with, anyway. And at least he made his gesture. Gave his gifts. Told the truth for once, and got a few things off his chest, and even made-out with a good-looking guy for a few minutes in the process.

Yep, an awesome-enough Valentine’s Day, Prussia dubbed it in his mind, as he sped home with a never-fading smile. Inspired by the constant thoughts of Austria. Toying around with vivid ideas of what ‘next time’ might truly mean; what it would bring to the two men, and “Oh shit,” Prussia said, as he nearly missed his exit.

***

Home again, in his brother’s home, Prussia ran upstairs, and collapsed on his bed, phone in hand, waiting for his next sign of hope.

Waiting for a call which never came, but it was fine: Prussia was too far gone, fast asleep; there’s no way he would have heard it, and besides, they’d be together again soon. Reunited at a supper table, with knee-touching, and childish fights leading to the eventual making-up and making-out, and whatever else the two had in mind. ‘Always next time.’


End file.
